At the Hyuga residence, Hiashi calmly unsealed the letter his daughter had sent. He read through it once, then again, as though unsure if he had truly understood what he'd just read.
"What did Onee-sama say?" Hanabi asked eagerly, leaning over the table.
Hiashi didn't answer right away. After a moment's thought, he erased the protective layer of writing and infused his chakra into the paper.
Immediately, a faint glow flared—then, with a soft pop, an explosive tag detached from the letter and burned out safely. The parchment folded in half, reshaping itself into a delicate origami doll shaped like a small firework.
"Wow!" Hanabi exclaimed, snatching it up and holding it in her hands with fascination.
The doll was hollow and fragile, its paper thin and almost translucent. Hanabi placed it gently on the table, her pale eyes sparkling as she examined it closely.
Hiashi allowed himself a faint smile. Leaving Hanabi to play with the origami, he rose from his seat and began drafting a reply.
Hinata's letter was straightforward. She had written briefly about her battle with Orochimaru—then asked one question:
"What is the most destructive attack ever recorded in the ninja world?"
Hiashi pondered deeply. He searched through the Hyuga clan's ancient texts and scrolls, compiling everything he could find before carefully writing down his answer.
Only after sealing the reply and dispatching it did Hiashi finally relax—only for his composure to break a moment later.
"Hinata… already has power on par with Orochimaru?" he murmured, stunned. "Am I… dreaming?"
Then, after a moment of silence, his lips curved upward with pride. "As expected of my daughter," he declared with satisfaction. "Truly worthy of the Hyuga name!"
…
Three days later, thanks to the ninjas' swift courier network, the letter reached Hinata—who, at that time, was still traveling the nearby sea.
The Hyuga clan's written history spanned more than a thousand years. During that time, countless techniques and secrets had been recorded and categorized. Hiashi had summarized them carefully in his reply, filling several pages.
There were sword techniques once used by samurai and forbidden arts of extraordinary power. However, the specific methods to master them were either incomplete or deliberately obscured—clearly, the Hyuga clan had never obtained full access to them.
Still, for a clan with the Byakugan, understanding their structure wasn't difficult. They had recorded the chakra flow and patterns of many such techniques in detail.
Hinata read through each one attentively. Most were unsuitable for her fighting style—but one entry caught her attention.
"Tailed Beast Ball."
It was classified as an S-rank secret technique, used exclusively by tailed beasts and jinchūriki. By combining chakra in a yin-yang ratio of 2:8, it formed a dense, jet-black energy sphere. The user would then swallow the orb and expel it, unleashing an explosion powerful enough to obliterate entire mountains.
Hinata's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
She knew about the existence of tailed beasts—One-Tailed through Nine-Tailed—common knowledge among shinobi. But the Ten-Tails' chakra, the one she possessed as a reward from her own inner realm, was something different.
Did it vanish from history altogether? she wondered.
If the Ten-Tails was indeed the progenitor of all tailed beasts, and she held its chakra, then theoretically, she should also be able to perform the Tailed Beast Ball—or at least a variation of it. Even if it were incomplete, its power should be more than enough to counter Orochimaru's Eight-Headed Serpent Technique.
With that thought, Hinata destroyed the letter, burned it to ash, and began to plan.
Unlike physical techniques, the Tailed Beast Ball required environmental stability and immense chakra control. Its training and execution conditions were strict—it couldn't be practiced anywhere near civilians or settlements.
The Ten-Tails' chakra within Hinata was unique. Its nature shifted depending on her physical condition; the stronger her body, the denser and purer the chakra became. It wasn't static—rather, it seemed to evolve alongside her.
Hinata had already discovered this during her earlier training. Physical conditioning was essential. She couldn't abandon it even now.
After ruling out every unsuitable option, only one place remained—her home space, a dimensional realm connected to her consciousness.
Closing her eyes, Hinata entered that inner world and walked to an undeveloped, open plain. She activated her Ten-Tails Chakra Mode, her form cloaked in luminous white energy.
Suppressing her awe, she began the next step: distinguishing between yin and yang within the Ten-Tails' chakra.
To form the Tailed Beast Ball, the ratio must be precise—two parts yin to eight parts yang. Without the ability to separate them, control was impossible.
Time lost meaning inside the home space. Ten hours passed without her realizing it.
The Ten-Tails' chakra felt paradoxical—both everything and nothing, infinite yet undefined. It contained chaos and order in equal measure. The contradiction left Hinata perplexed.
Days passed in similar fashion. She maintained her daily routine aboard the ship—training, eating, refining her sealing techniques, meditating on chakra flow—and devoted all spare time to studying the Ten-Tails' energy.
Despite her persistence, progress was nonexistent. Not a single clue emerged.
Still, Hinata didn't grow impatient.
Haste makes waste, she reminded herself. Step by step, I'll get there.
Her days flowed in quiet rhythm: exercising, eating, studying sealing arts, feeling out the Ten-Tails' chakra's nature, and occasionally sparring with Kiba and Shino. When she needed to clear her mind, she turned to the gentle arts—origami and the tea ceremony, her calm discipline never wavering.
…
Isaribi was constantly dazzled by Hinata's graceful and disciplined lifestyle. In her spare time, she often tried to imitate it. Origami came easily to her—her fingers were deft and patient—but the tea ceremony proved far more difficult.
Brewing tea was simply a skill; mastering the way of tea was something entirely different. The true essence of the ceremony lay not in the movements, but in the atmosphere—the quiet, the composure, the sincerity. Without inner peace, one could never grasp its beauty.
Hinata herself had struggled with it once. It wasn't until her soul merged with the memories of her previous life—an existence filled with hardship, death, and rebirth—that she finally understood the spiritual depth her father had spoken of.
…
Half a month passed quietly in this rhythm.
Then one morning, the ship received a group of guests—familiar faces all: Naruto, Sakura, Ino, and their escorting Jōnin, Mitarashi Anko, the same examiner who once oversaw the second round of the Chūnin Exams.
The moment they boarded, the three younger ninjas surrounded Hinata, firing questions all at once.
"Hinata! Where's Sasuke-kun? How is he?"
"Did you really see him?"
"Was Orochimaru there too?"
Caught off guard, Hinata blushed faintly. "Y-Yes… Sasuke was there," she admitted softly, explaining everything that had happened.
As she spoke, Naruto, Sakura, and Ino's expressions shifted dramatically.
When they heard that Hinata had defeated Sasuke—so badly that he'd coughed up blood—the three stood frozen in disbelief.
They had imagined Sasuke suffering at Orochimaru's hands, not Hinata's.
Anko suddenly stepped forward, pushing the trio aside with a grin. "Alright, alright! Enough crowding her. You've heard what you wanted to know—now it's my turn!"
Hinata blinked in confusion as Anko ushered her into the cabin.
Once inside, the older kunoichi leaned casually against the wall, all playfulness gone. "Your father already reported to the Hokage," she said directly. "I'm here not just on personal business, but to retrieve the full mission records."
She continued, "The two men you had the Hyuga branch family bring back a few weeks ago were confirmed to be Orochimaru's subordinates. Unfortunately, they were low-ranking—too insignificant to be of real value."
Hinata frowned. "My father reported it himself?"
Anko smirked awkwardly. "Well… not exactly. He let it slip while he was drunk."
Hinata blinked. "…Drunk?"
"Yeah. Shizune was there too," Anko added with a knowing look. "Trust me, she's definitely pretending not to have heard."
Hinata could only sigh in silence.
Putting that aside, the two women got to work. Hinata calmly recounted the details while Anko took notes—though her focus often drifted, forcing Hinata to repeat herself several times.
By the time they finished, the cabin's air felt heavy. Anko wiped the sweat from her brow, equal parts overwhelmed and uneasy. The sheer scale of Hinata's abilities—and the memories Anko herself had of Orochimaru—stirred something painful inside her.